The Man I've Yet to Know
by JacksBoonie
Summary: Chase stood in the center of the apartment bedroom like a deer caught in headlights. Going somewhere? House's deep, husky voice inquired innocently. Home, Chase managed past the lump in his throat. [Chase's dad dies. What will House do?] HouseChase
1. Chapter 1

AN: Wow! Third _House_ fic within the week! I feel like I'm on a roll or something. Anyway, I hope you guys like this one. I went a different direction with the pairing, obviously. I wasn't initially into the Chase/House relationship thing, but I've warmed up to it a bit. I just can't stand those House/Cameron, House/Cuddy pairings. Ugh. No offense. I mean, I enjoy a good het pairing as well as the next person . . . when it's written decently. Okay, I'll stop rambling and let you kids get to it. Enjoy, yea?

Disclaimer: I do not own the television series _House_. I do not own the characters of the television series _House_.

_The Man I've Yet to Know:_

Chase stood in the center of the apartment bedroom like a deer caught in headlights, still clutching a few articles of clothing in his trembling hands. The intense blue eyes trained on him from the doorway bored imaginary holes into his skull, emanating a look of curiosity and bewilderment.

"Going somewhere?" House's deep, husky voice inquired innocently. His chin was lowered slightly, giving him the advantage of looking at the younger man through his eyelashes -- a sinisterly sexy look he had practiced many times in the mirror that guaranteed any and all cooperation from a given person, namely Chase.

"Home," Chase managed past the lump in his throat, his voice barely audible as it cracked. Dry tears lay in flaky streams on his face, framing the curves of his cheeks, and he sniffled, breaking eye contact with the man and returning to the task of placing his clothing in a nearly-full suitcase on their bed. He wiped his runny nose precariously, like a child with a cold might, and House was vaguely aware of how childlike Chase really was.

"I thought . . ." The older man could not finish, the two words hanging in the air like a heavy dust, choking the rest of the sentence from his memory. He thumped the bottom of his cane against the floor a few times uncomfortably, averting his gaze to the floor at Chase's feet. "I mean, I know I'm a prick sometimes . . . most of the time . . . _all _the time . . . but you don't have to . . ."

Chase, suddenly aware of how the situation must look to the other man, was quick to fix the misunderstanding, his red, tear-deprived eyes wide with a mixture of surprise and worry.

"No!"

House looked up at the exclamation, his eyebrows raised questioningly. Chase had one hand raised in his direction, as if reaching out would allow him to see what was really happening.

"I-I mean, I'm not _leaving_ . . . I just . . ." The younger man sighed, his arm dropping to his side and his head lowering as he slowly slumped to sit on the bed. "My dad died."

House's teeth clenched, the grip on the cane in his right hand tightening. His shoulders sagged in sympathy and relief, a twinge of guilt causing him to grimace -- something that Chase, thankfully, missed. He carefully made his way across the room, plopping down next to the younger man. Placing the cane upright between his legs, he put both hands, left over right, on top of it, staring down at Chase's knee before building up the courage to sneak a peek at his face.

What he found almost surprised him, but at the same time, he realized he had almost expected it. Fresh tears leaked from Chase's eyes, but the look on his face was blank -- the look of someone who mourned not for the loss of a father, but for a man that he had not been able to know, for a man that he thought he had time to _get_ to know.

But there was no more time left. No more time to learn of what his mother had been like before he was born, what he and his father could have fixed now that their relationship had been repaired to the point of being able to speak to one another without malice.

"I'm sorry," House said quietly, cautiously and awkwardly placing a lanky arm around the other man's shoulders. He squeezed Chase to him slightly, and the young doctor immediately turned into his hold, wrapping his arms around House's chest tightly and burying his face in the crook of his neck. Sobs wracked his body violently, and the older man wondered for a moment how the death of someone Chase barely knew could affect him as much as it did.

As if in answer to his silent question, Chase's muffled voice said in shuddered gasps, "I didn't know. I hugged him, and I told him I'd see him in August. He didn't say _anything_. He knew, and I didn't, and it's not . . . _fair_."

"Yea," House whispered into his ear, rubbing soothing circles on the younger man's back. "Yea, I know." Chase, suddenly, pulled away, staring up at him with soggy, red-rimmed eyes.

"He didn't say anything to you, did he?" He asked desperately, searching the older man's eyes for any sign that he might have known something about his father's condition. "He didn't show any symptoms? You didn't notice anything?"

House was quiet for a moment, and he bit the inside of his cheek before replying, "No, I didn't notice. We didn't have any time to talk while he was here." Chase nodded, lowering his head to House's chest and concentrating on breathing in the other man's scent It was soothing, a warm and familiar spicy tang -- a mixture of aftershave and cologne. "I'm sorry, Robbie. I really am. Is there anything I can do? Do you want me to come to Australia with you?"

The younger man shook his head, pulling away from him and wiping furiously at his eyes with his finger tips.

"No," he responded softly, resting his face in his hands. "Thank you, but I'll be fine on my own. Could you just confirm the ticket with the airport, please?"

"Sure," House said, spotting the airline ticket on the bureau and standing stiffly. He snatched the thin, folded paper and made his way from the room, giving one last glance at the sullen young man before heading towards the telephone in the den.

0 o 0 o 0

"You're absolutely sure? I can still catch a later flight if you want me to," House stated suggestively, studying his young lover carefully. He could see the longing in the other man's eyes.

They screamed _Yes, please come with me! I can't do this without you! I need someone there with me!_

But what came from Chase's mouth was, "For the last time, Greg, I'll be fine." He smiled unconvincingly. "I can do this on my own. It's not like I haven't made funeral arrangements before." House winced, guilt springing to his chest, but he quickly covered for it.

"Funeral? Hell, I'm just looking for a week off of work."

Chase gave a smirk, knowing that this was just House's twisted way of lightening the mood. Strangely, it always seemed to work. The young man found himself leaning forward onto his toes to give him a bit of heighth, and House immediately lowered his head slightly to meet him half way. Their lips brushed gently at first and then pressed a little harder for a warm, lingering kiss. The announcement that Chase's flight was boarding pulled them apart reluctantly, and they leaned their foreheads together for a moment before the younger man began to back away, locking eyes with House for as long as possible before he turned and quickly made his way towards the gate.

House stayed until the plane took off, his phone conversation with the airline attendant coming to mind as he watched it disappear.

_//"Yes, I'm calling to confirm a plane ticket for Mister Robert Chase."_

_"One moment, please." The young woman's voice was much more chipper than should be possible and caused House to wince and pull the phone away from his ear for a moment. The sound of the clacking of a keyboard filled the silence. "Yes, Sir, Mr. Chase's plane leaves at six p.m."_

_"Great," House said unenthusiastically._

_"Is there anything else I can do for you, Sir?"_

_House looked at the closed bedroom door of his and Chase's apartment, before responding, "When is your next flight to Mr. Chase's destination?"_

_More clacking. _

_"Another flight leaves tomorrow at eight a.m."_

_"Fantastic. I'd like to book one ticket, please."//_

House turned, then, making his way out of the airport and to his car. He would have some packing to do before his flight.

AN: Questions? Comments? Vague disregard for any or all words written and established in the mind of one who has no sanity?

Aw, it just makes me all tingly inside when stories have a happy ending. /Sigh/ Gotta love it. :) Later, Gators! Hope you liked. House and Chase are just so dern cute together, neh? Heh heh!


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Wow! Alright, you guys convinced me. I wasn't going to do a second chapter, but you all inspired me to continue with the plot. So, as requested, here is another chapter (and the _last_). Sorry, I just don't think there's much of a plot after this one. :) Thanks for all the interest, you guys! You're amazing!

_Chapter Two:  
_

"Greg?" Chase could hardly believe who was standing at the door of his late father's house -- mansion, more accurately -- the one that was left to him in the will. He had been somewhat confused when the butler had approached him in the dining room and announced, rather unamusedly, that a "Mister Dundee" was at the door for him. "What are you doing here?"

"You think I'm going to let you con me out of a week's vacation?" The older man quipped, leaning heavily on his cane and shifting the rather large duffle bag from his shoulder into Chase's arms. "Nice place. Got any food? The airline never has anything appetizing." House pushed his way past the still-stunned Australian, whistling as he stopped and turned, looking up. "Damn. You didn't tell you were _this _rich, Robbie. I would have asked for more when your daddy paid me to hire you."

Chase rolled his eyes at the statement, handing the duffle to the butler and telling him to put it in _his_ room, to which he received a raised eyebrow and, thankfully, no comment. The young man turned, once again, to his guest, who studied him closely.

"Why are you _really_ here?" Chase inquired curiously, taking a couple of steps forward and shoving his hands deep within his pockets. "Cuddy wouldn't authorize any vacation time for you -- not after all those clinic hours you've been skipping out on."

"First of all," House countered, "I _never_ go through Cuddy to authorize a vacation. I normally just call from the plane -- which I did -- that way she can't call me back and bitch about it." Chase smirked at this. "Second, you _told_ me not to come, so I, obviously, _had_ to." Chase continued towards him a few more steps, his smile growing wider. "And third-" House was cut off as the younger man, suddenly, lurched forward, engulfing him in a tight embrace and crushing their lips together -- roughly at first, but, gradually, House reciprocated, and the kiss turned soft and deep. Reluctantly, they broke apart, both panting slightly.

"Third?" Chase asked breathlessly, grinning childishly at the blank look he received in return.

"Third . . ." House repeated thoughtfully, shifting in the younger man's hold to get more comfortable. "I don't recall a third. What is this 'third' you speak of?" Chase chuckled, leaning in for another kiss until someone cleared their throat from the door. Both men turned to find a very disgruntled man standing in the doorway.

"Who's that?" Chase inquired quietly.

"That," House replied begrudgingly, "is the annoyingly rude Australian cabbie waiting for his money."

The young doctor gave an exasperated sigh, releasing his lover and reaching for his wallet.

"Hi," he smiled tiredly as he approached the stranger.

0 o 0 o 0

"You could have told me you were coming," the young Australian said from across the table, watching the older man stuff a huge chunk of steak in his mouth.

"You could have asked me to come," House countered past the piece of meat, swallowing it loudly and washing it down with a few mouthfuls of red wine. If only he was able to eat like this _every_ night. Sadly, Chase only ever used his enormous stash for very small, normal things -- groceries, furniture, appliances -- a stash that would grow quite a bit once the house was sold. "I don't know why you insist on selling this place. Keep it! We can use it as a summer home."

"I don't want to keep it," the younger man replied wearily, slumping further into his chair and staring at his untouched dinner. "It's too big."

"That's not the reason you don't want it," House pointed out, cutting into his steak again.

"And what do you think my reason is, then?" Chase demanded testily, the frown on his face exposing wrinkles on his fine skin.

"Well," the older doctor started conversationally, putting the sliver ware down and wiping his face with a napkin, "it'd be a different story if you had actually grown up here. 'Sentimental value' and all that bullshit."

"But I didn't grow up here."

"Precisely," House nodded, "but your father did. And his father before him." At Chase's confused look, the man rolled his eyes. "Don't you read _any_ of your father's books?"

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"Besides being _absolutely_ hilarious," House smirked, "he was very open about his childhood. This house? Been in the family for _five_ generations. Your great, great, great grandfather built this house with his very own hands . . . and about a hundred slave laborers, but that's beside the point."

Chase sighed. "I already knew all that."

"Then why sell it?"

"Because I have no right to keep it," the young man admitted. "Like you said, it's been in my father's family for generations. I don't consider myself apart of my father's family."

"Still left you the house," the other shrugged, sighing and grabbing his wine glass to finish it off.

"And I've already got an offer for $2.5 million," Chase added as an afterthought, resisting the urge to laugh as House spluttered into his glass.

"_2.5_?!" He choked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Well, what the _hell_ are we still doing here? Come on! We have to pack up and leave! There are people wanting to buy this place for _obscene_ amounts of money! We don't want to stand in their way!"

Chase chuckled as House stood, limping towards him and grabbing his arm to pull him to his feet.

"The contract won't be final until after my father's funeral," he explained, wrapping his arms around the man's waist and resting his chin on House's chest. "We have this place for a whole week -- no interruptions."

"No _work_," House pointed out happily, stringing the fingers of his free hand through Chase's soft hair. The young man released the other's waist, running a hand along the his arm until their fingers met and linked.

"Come on," Chase motioned towards the stairs that lead up to their room. House glared at the steps with annoyance, growling slightly as his leg ached at the mere _thought_ of having to trudge up them. Chase tugged at his hand, pulling him down the hall but stopping halfway and smirking at his confused look. House glanced warily at the double doors before them as the younger man pressed a small button to his right. His eyebrow quirked with interest as the doors slid open to reveal an elevator compartment.

After a short moment of silence, House turned to his companion and asked, "Are you _sure_ we can't keep the house?"

"2.5 _million_ dollars, Greg," Chase reminded him, stepping into the lift and waiting for the other man to do the same.

"Right," House nodded, following suit. "What was I thinking?" He pivoted on the foot of his good leg to face the closing doors, his shoulder brushing the younger man's. "We can put one in the apartment building. No more wayward trips to the laundry room in the basement."

"I was actually thinking of a condo across town," Chase suggested with a shrug. "I mean, you'd have to take the long way to work on your bike, but the fresh air might be good for you." House glanced at him with curiosity.

"No saving it for a rainy day?"

The elevator doors opened to the second floor, and Chase made his way out of the compartment, saying, "Well, if you insist . . ."

House joined him, setting their pace as the younger man led him down the hall.

"A condo sounds fantastic," he smirked, stringing their fingers together and pressing a kiss to Chase's temple as they approached the bedroom.

AN: Questions? Comments? Vague disregard for any or all words written and established in the mind of one who has no sanity?

Forgive me if there are any mistakes. I wrote this during an overnight shift, and my mind was on auto pilot most of the night. I'm actually just trying to get this chapter up as quickly as possible so I can go to bed and sleep! Yay! Later, Gators! Hope you liked.


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